


My Body is Here (I am Inside)

by Honey_Hued_Hermes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Derealization, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Intrusive Thoughts, Not Beta Read, Panic Attack, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, my boys - Freeform, not that bad but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24122743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honey_Hued_Hermes/pseuds/Honey_Hued_Hermes
Summary: Waking up is a slow process. Groggy and slow, a cold weight settling into his stomach and Peter knows it’s going to be one of those days.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Kudos: 147





	1. I think I wanna die

**Author's Note:**

> This is v venty and also garbage sorry :P
> 
> Also pls tell me if i forgot to tag anything that could be a TW thnx

Waking up is a slow process. Groggy and slow, a cold weight settling into his stomach and Peter knows it’s going to be one of those days. Unfortunately, today being a Saturday, means that it's a Stark Towers day.

Not that seeing Mr. Stark wasn’t something he could avoid. Hell, Peter could shoot the man a text about not feeling well and how he was going to skip out today. But, that would cause the older man to worry and Peter didn’t need to put anymore stress of Tony then he already did.

He blinked, not wanting to move from the security of his bed. The clock read 11 o’clock, not that late and Peter had another couple hours until he had to leave so, he allowed himself to rest a while longer. Time passed in blurs, slipping through his hands like sand and the time to leave came all to soon. A quick shower, a bite to eat and a quick hug from May before he was out the door and on his way to Stark Tower. 

Happy was busy today so he opted to walk, which in hindsight wasn’t his best idea. The bustle of busy street, cars and people passing by without a care, chatting and honking and laughing and noise and more and too much. Heavy weight made a home for itself in Peter's lungs, cold and sharp and unwelcome.

A shoulder bumped his and he muttered out a quiet apology. His clothes felt wrong, scratchy and weird, and his shoulder burned, the brief contact setting his skin ablaze. And Peter fell back into himself.

Time slipped further, and when he snapped back he was in the lab with Tony, sitting quietly and tinkering with who knows what. His memory is fuzzy and he feels pressure growing in his head, a steady weight in his mind that he can’t seem to shake. There's a taste in his mouth akin to iron and his tongue rests like lead, he can't bring himself to speak up, the energy to do so seeping out of him. Peter needs to snap out of this, needs to not make a scene in front of Mr. Stark. He can’t deal with those repercussions, not today.

He catches a glimpse of his hands, steady and still and definitely not his. There not his but they are, indiscernible and blurry and Peter can no longer focus. He doesn't feel safe, doesn't feel like he's in his body, like the body he has isn't him and safety is no longer a choice as the environment around him hits, and it hits hard.

Mr. Starks occasional glances at him, unreadable and scarce; the buzzing of machinery around, steadily increasing the pounding in his head; the bright fluorescent, too white, too bright. Heavy breathing and the sound of silence falls on his chest with the distinct feeling of being trampled to death.

Peters skin burns and the urge to tear it off arises. The fire runs through his veins and the urge grows, his hands are trembling now and the yearning to feel some sort of pain, any kind of hurt is too much. He tries to push the thoughts down, but they are armed to the teeth and ready for blood.

His heart beats and beats and it doesn’t seem to stop, doesn’t seem to slow. He can feel his breathing, a staccato of building panic. And he falls further into himself, falls further from everything. His vision blurs and he can't tell if it's from tears or his inability to focus.

His eyes sting and his chest aches, subdued, a backdrop to his agony. He needs to scream, needs to yell, needs to hurt, needs that surface level pain to ground him again. He distantly recognizes that Mr. Stark has moved, hands flirting around and mouth moving, eyes frantic at Peters lack of response.

He tries to focus, tries to grasp into the soothing sound of his mentors voice, but he can’t find it in the whir of sounds around him, buzzing, beeping, ringing and it’s all so much, too much. His hands clamp over his ears and and sharp whine escapes him. Peter feels like he's melting, feels like he could turn to ash at the drop of a hat and everything is too much.

He can’t focus, can’t breath, can’t think and his heart hurts, full of fire and want and Peter really wishes he could breath. Mr. Stark leaves his vision and something in his chests seizes, a pitiful sound pushing its way out. Suddenly, hands are on his, gently prying them away from his ears and the tight grip they had on his hair and Peter feels anger burn it’s way through him. He barely manages to restrain himself form lashing out.

Soon enough something else is placed on his ears and the world goes quiet around him, the lab goes dark and Peter barely registers the fact that he is being moved onto the ground and off of the hard stool that he was previously siting on.

Hands are on him again, and he pulls away not liking the confined feeling, not liking the way they burned. They didn’t leave, they stuck to him like glue and Peter let out a strangled sob; he needed them to stop. Needed the pressure gone before the rage that swelled inside him burst.

He was still standing, legs numb and shaky and the pressure behind the hands increased, leading him into a siting position. The hands finally left and where quickly replaced by a soft presence beside him, not quite touching, but close enough that Peter new it was there.

His nails dig into his palms, hands pressed to his heaving chest, head resting on his knees. Broken sobs ripped their way through him, escaping him in a testimony of his pain. He needed this to stop, the pain, the whirlwind of emotions that he couldn't control, everything need to stop.

Time slipped, and Peter lost track of how long he was there, huddled on the floor on Tony’s lab, chest throbbing and heart beating and utterly miserable. It was a slow descent, heart falling into its normal rhythm and faltered breathing growing steadier and exhaustion creeping its way into Peters mind, settling nicely beside the constant weight.

Peter stretches his legs out in front of him, joints full of pins and needles and he leans on the presence next to him, welcoming the comforting warmth. A hand is in his hair now, softly running through the curls and Peter relaxes further, not bothering to open his eyes, . He takes another shuttering breath, it’s deep and fills his lungs with much needed oxygen. The world is still and steady and quiet.

More time passes and Peter finally opens his eyes, he sees Tony beside him, eyes soft and filled with worry, but he doesn’t say anything, just keeps his presence unwavering and Peter feels himself drift off, eyes lids collapsing under the exhaustion.


	2. but I guess I know I'm fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the fluuf part

Tony doesn't know how to feel. He knew something was off about the kid the moment he showed up, but Peter just shrugged off his concern, shot him a blinding smile and asked what they where working on today, so Tony let it slide. Mistake number one.

The quietness is unusual, Peter is usually of stream of never ending chatter, but today he barely speaks more than a couple sentences. Tony does his best to strike up a conversation, but falls flat when he only revives nods, the kid looks so absorbed in his work that Tony drops it. Mistake number two.

The next mistake is done on purpose and Tony feels his heart crack just thinking about it. Peter had gotten worse and there was no concealing the way his breathing had picked up, growing erratic much too quickly. And Tony had stumbled his way through not only realizing that Peter was having a panic attack, but also acting on it. The kid reacted harshly to light and sound, lights off, sound proof headphones, good and dealt with. Getting Peter to the floor- a hopefully more comfortable space than where he was hunched over on the stool- is where the mistake arose. He shouldn't have touched Peter, after seeing his other sense go haywire he knew, int he back of his mind, that it wasn't a good idea.

Peter pulls away and Tony faintly sees something harsh flicker in his eyes and he wants to stop, but his kid is shaking like a leaf and, frankly, looks like he's going to collapse any moment. So, he does his best to guide Peter into a sitting position as quickly as he can. He sits next to Peter, not close enough to touch, but, hopefully, if Peter needed him he would know that Tony was there. And Tony sat there, doing his best not to feel useless.

Tony didn't know how to help, Peter couldn't hear him and the moment they were on the floor the kids eyes had closed, squeezed shut almost painfully tight; also given the fact that he couldn't touch him without making it worse. They would defiantly need to talk after this, Tony needed to know how to help.

He lost track of how long they sat there, though he knew it wasn't as long as it had felt. He shot another glance at Peter when the kids breathing changed. Seconds later, Peter leaned against him, legs strait, eyes closed, almost dead weight against Tony's side, he he hesitated before softly running his hands through his kids hair, brushing away some locks that were stuck down. And he felt Peter relax further, eyes glazed and tired peered up at him before the kid was out like a light,  
Tony opted to carry him and was startled by how light Peter was, but he pushed that thought back, it was something for another day. Once he got Peter to bed, he left and tried to busy himself telling FRIDAY to alert him when Peter woke up. His mind couldn't stay focused on the task at hand, it kept wandering back to Peter. Tony sighed, rubbing his eyes, he wasn't going to get any work done.

Peter woke up surprisingly quick, not even an hour had passed since his panic attack when FRIDAY told him. Tony slowly made his way to Peters room, running through what he wanted to talk about, how to help, prevention, etcetera. Tony knocked on the door, not waiting for a response before he walked in, “Hey, kid. How you feeling?”

Peter blinked at him slowly, rubbing a hand on his face, “I'm-,” he cleared his throat, “really hungry and-,” a yawn, “tired,”

Tony chuckled, “I can imagine, you had a nasty panic attack there Pete. C'mon, I'll get you something to eat,”

They made their way down to the kitchen, “Anything you want? Or just like cereal or toast or?” Tony trailed off, waiting for Peter to answer.

“Cereal okay,”

“So,” Tony started again, unsure of how to start this conversation, “you wanna tell em about what happened?”

Peter paused in front of the cupboards and sighed, “Panic attacks aren't new to me, I mean I've always seemed to have a problem with anxiety, but today was the worst one in a long time.”

“Any reason why?”

Peter shrugged, avoiding eye contact, “Just one of those days,”

Tony nodded, “Anything I can do to help, either now or in the future?”

Peter shrugged again, “I dunno,”

Tony resisted the urge to sigh, settling for a, hopefully, comforting smile, “Let me know when you do,”

Peter nodded sluggishly and Tony let himself sigh, “When you're done with that,” he said gesturing towards the bowl of cereal, “get some more rest, I'll call May and tell her you're staying the night.”

“Yeah, okay,” Peter mumbled voice impossibly soft, eyes drooping, “Thanks dad,”

Tony practically melted on the spot, and could the universe give him a fucking break, he's felt way to many emotions for the day thank you very much. Tony didn't respond, he didn't trust his voice as a lump in his throat grew, he ruffled Peters hair and it hit him without much surprise that, yeah, he would do anything for his kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also! Both the work title and chapter titles come from the song "Panic Attack" By Liza Anne

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all wanna yell at me? Please do so whenever on Instagram @Honey_Hued_Helios


End file.
